


they say that things just cannot grow, beneath the winter snow (or so i have been told)

by Lysippe



Series: The Worst Witch 2018 Winter Fluff-A-Thon [12]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, day 12: remote cabin, hey remember that time I sucked at writing fluff, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 13:58:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16975887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysippe/pseuds/Lysippe
Summary: The cabin had been Pippa’s idea. One week, over Christmas holidays, to get away from things. That had been her sales pitch, and Pippa had clearly thought it was a more than sufficient explanation, because she had spent a rather long moment staring at Hecate impatiently, waiting for her response.





	they say that things just cannot grow, beneath the winter snow (or so i have been told)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, really, though, I don't know why I took this fic in this direction. I truly don't. I remember hating it when I wrote it, and dragging myself through finishing it because it was the angst that just wouldn't STOP, but I quite liked it when I re-read it before posting? I don't know, hopefully someone gets... something(?) out of this.

The cabin had been Pippa’s idea. One week, over Christmas holidays,  _ to get away from things _ . That had been her sales pitch, and Pippa had clearly thought it was a more than sufficient explanation, because she had spent a rather long moment staring at Hecate impatiently, waiting for her response.

Hecate, for her part, had simply stared at her in confusion, raised an eyebrow, and asked, slowly, cautiously, “What, exactly, are we getting away from?” 

It was, she felt, a poor attempt at disguising the anxiety she felt creeping up her spine at the thought of it. Their relationship was still new, still uncertain, undefined. Largely constrained to brief mirror calls in the few minutes they had between supper and bed, tea and chess on Thursday nights, and the occasional weekend visit when either one could be spared for so long. It was a routine, not ideal for either of them, but comfortable and stable nonetheless.

And this was none of those things.

But Pippa just sighed and rolled her eyes, a patient, good-natured smile fixed firmly on her face. Placed one hand gently on Hecate’s bicep and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Oh, you know. The usual things. School. Students.” She leaned in closer, until Hecate could feel her breath tickling the back of her neck. “ _ Coworkers with prying eyes _ .”

“I’m quite certain,” Hecate began, “that I don’t know why I would specifically want to get away from any of those things. School is out for the holidays. The students are home.” She was hedging, putting off having to give an answer. Attempting to figure out exactly what answer she wanted to give. And she was certain Pippa must have realized it, too. 

“And your coworkers?” Pippa’s voice was expectant.

“Are aware that my private affairs are my own business, and know better than to engage in idle gossip.”

Pippa snorted, a poor attempt at concealing laughter. “When you’re around, maybe.  _ Honestly _ , Hecate. No one is going to gossip about you to your face. That defeats the purpose. And even if what you say is true -- and I am by no means insinuating that I believe it is -- I am merely suggesting that perhaps sometime away, just the two of us, where we don’t have to worry about emergencies at school, or last-minute staff meetings, or,” Pippa paused, a slow, suggestive smile spreading across her face, “the need for silencing spells… might be a pleasant change of pace?”

Hecate felt herself pale, her throat like sandpaper. Then, as suddenly as the blood had left her face, it rushed back in excess. She was, all things considered, quite disgusted with her reaction. She was a grown witch, and hardly new to the concepts of sex and romance. Admittedly, she had eschewed romantic companionship for the most part, choosing instead to devote her energies to her students, her school, her academic pursuits. But conferences came and went, and academic circles were small, and Hecate was rarely the only bored witch seeking alternate entertainment, of the variety that did  _ not  _ include pub counters and loud, drunken conversations with colleagues with whom she had no interest in socializing.

But there was something profoundly different about Pippa. About spending time with Pippa, and the thought of spending time with Pippa alone, away from any possible distractions. Away from any possible excuses.

Away from the need for silencing spells.

It was, in Pippa’s defense, a perfectly reasonable suggestion. They had spent time together before in this manner, between terms and on long weekends. But it had always been at one school or the other, always with the potential excuse of work that needed to be done. Not that either of them had ever used it.

Not that either of them had ever wanted to.

At least, not that Hecate had ever wanted to.

But that was the problem.

A trip up to the mountains, a cabin in the woods, a roaring fire and no one around for miles, were all things which should appeal to her. And they were. And a week with Pippa, alone, with no colleagues to meddle, no students to wreak havoc, no maddening amounts of politics to play, should have sounded delightful. And it did. 

It was just also vaguely terrifying.

Hecate was, of course, completely serious about her relationship with Pippa. She had been since they had taken their first tentative, stumbling steps towards romance only a few months back. Had been since she was fifteen years old, long before the thought had ever occurred to Pippa, she was quite certain. 

And Pippa, ever earnest, was starting to look a bit worried.

”Hiccup?” The word was laced with concern, with perhaps, Hecate thought, the smallest touch of fear. Pippa’s eyes, wide and concerned, bored into Hecate, searching, as though she would find the answer to all of her questions there. “If you would rather-- that is, if you don’t want to, if it’s too fast or too much or I’ve simply read the entire situation all wrong, it is  _ completely _ alright. I’ll understand, truly.”

Hecate, coming back to herself, gave the slightest shake of her head, pushing back all doubts, all self-consciousness. It was  _ Pippa _ , and at some point, she had to stop believing that she was the only one invested in their relationship, the only one who wanted it.

“No,” she said softly. “A week away sounds lovely.”

____________________________________________________________________________

And it was lovely, for the first few days. The flight up, though bitterly cold, had been an easy one, and Pippa had been more than helpful in ensuring that she warmed up quite quickly upon their arrival. She had, in fact, been more than helpful in keeping Hecate warm for the last three days. 

Pippa, true to her word, had taken sound advantage of the lack of need for silencing spells, and they had scarcely left the bedroom for the entirety of the first day. It was only at the behest of Pippa’s stomach and her insatiable craving for sweets, that they finally made their way into the rest of the cabin to find some sort of sustenance. 

Pippa had even, to Hecate’s pleasant surprise, been quite delighted to join her in sourcing some of the more uncommon potions ingredients that could be found in the area, which Hecate had, of course, made a list of, but fully expected not to use. Time, it seemed, had dulled neither Pippa’s enthusiasm for, nor her skill at foraging, and they had returned to the cabin weighed down with holly boughs and owl feathers collected under the waning moon and pine needles from under a hare’s foot. (Pippa had retrieved after performing a rather impressively quick bit of magic to acquire those, which Hecate couldn’t help but admire. Along with the accompanying triumphant smile and stage-whispered  _ “Got it!” _ ) 

It was with bright eyes and a quick brush of icy lips against Hecate’s cheek, that she had said, “You and me. Bath. Tea. Chess. In that order. Yes?”

And it was with cheeks pink from more than just the cold, that Hecate had agreed.

The week passed without event, and entirely too quickly for Hecate’s liking. Despite all of the ways in which they had changed, in which their lives had changed, in which the fundamental nature of their relationship had changed, Hecate was pleased to discover that, even lacking in the presence of outside stimuli, time spent with Pippa still never felt meaningless or unproductive. Pippa had grown into her mind quite well. She had always been clever -- Hecate had always had to truly struggle to edge her out in marks during their school years, and had failed on more than one occasion -- but she had channeled her cleverness, her inquisitive nature and irrepressible desire to understand all things, in a way that left her never lacking in  _ something  _ to keep her occupied. Which, in turn, meant that Hecate was never lacking in something to keep her occupied. And they fell into old rhythms so naturally, that for a brief few days, it was almost as though nothing had ever changed between them.

It was, in fact, only on their last night that they ran into any sort of issue. 

And it was most unfortunate that trouble came in the form of a massive snowstorm, forecast to last through the night and well into the next day -- the day on which they were meant to depart, to go back to their respective schools and welcome their students back from break. A plan which was rapidly falling to pieces with every new centimeter of accumulation that fell to the ground.

Pippa, of course, had taken it in stride, as she took most things. She had taken out her maglet, sent  brief, apologetic notice to her deputy head, and moved on with little more than a passing “It  _ is  _ too bad, I do prefer to be present when my students arrive back.”

But for Hecate, it was a good bit more complicated. When Pippa had asked, seeing the concern-nearing-panic rising on Hecate’s face, Hecate had simply shaken her head, words failing her in the moment.

“Hiccup, _what_ _is it?”_ Pippa’s tone was gentle, coaxing, as she took Hecate by the wrist, led her gently over to the large, overstuffed couch that sat across from the fireplace, and pressed one hand to her chest, pushing her downward, until Hecate reluctantly took a seat. Pippa, seemingly pleased, immediately laid herself down, head in Hecate’s lap.

Hecate, who had been momentarily distracted by sensation of Pippa’s fingers finding her own, intertwining them, squeezing gently, remembered at once the reason for her concern. “I shall have to alert Ada,” she said, at last.

Pippa frowned. “Did you forget your maglet? You can just use mine, that’s hardly something to be concerned about.”

“No, it isn’t that,” Hecate murmured, as Pippa’s hands found the end of her plait and began gently undoing it, fingers running through dark waves as they came free. “And if you wish for me to pay attention to you, that is hardly the way to do it.”

“Is that a problem? I hardly think that Ada would be cross with you for the fact that a snowstorm dared to happen when you were supposed to be flying home.” Pippa was growing ever more perplexed, ever more curious. And perhaps, Hecate thought, more concerned.

“The problem,” Hecate started, pursing her lips, taking her time to figure out the precise wording for what she was trying to say, “is that I neglected to inform Ada of my whereabouts for the past week.”

Pippa pushed herself up on her elbows, angling her head towards Hecate with barely concealed mirth. “Hecate Hardbroom, did you  _ lie  _ to your headmistress about your whereabouts for the past week? Did you sneak out like a rebellious teenager? Is this some clandestine secret you must keep for all your days?”

Hecate scoffed. “I most certainly did not  _ lie  _ or  _ sneak out _ , and I did  _ nothing  _ ‘like a rebellious teenager.’ I am a grown witch, and as such, I am both able and entitled to make my own decisions as to how I spend my vacations, as well as with whom.”

Hecate knew that Pippa had noticed the way she had failed to answer her last question, could see the gravity of that fact as it took hold. Pippa disentangled herself fully, shifting away to break all physical contact in the way she always had when Hecate had done something to upset her. She sat up and away from Hecate, fingers tapping out an erratic rhythm on her thighs. It was an old habit, a telltale sign of Pippa’s aggravation. “Hecate,” she said, quieter, softer now than before, a hint of pleading in her voice, “ _ Are  _ you keeping us a secret?”

Hecate wasn’t quite sure how to respond. She turned various answers and half-answers around in her mind, but eventually settled on, “That is not… exactly an accurate depiction of what is happening, no.”

Hurt flashed in Pippa’s eyes, followed closely behind by an anger the likes of which was all too familiar. The kind of anger Pippa had always been incredibly good at hiding behind a tight-lipped smile, a tactful retort, a quick change of topic. “Hecate,” she said, her voice dangerously calm, measured in a way Hecate had never heard and was quite certain she never wanted to gain, “we have been in a relationship for  _ six months _ . My staff are aware of our relationship, as are those important to me in my personal life.”

“I am not you, Pippa,” Hecate said, her voice harder than intended, more defensive than she knew she had the right for it to be, “and I am not bound to make the same decisions as you about how I handle my personal affairs.” 

Hecate knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment the words left her mouth. Pippa’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she glanced away for a long moment, eyes cast off to the side. It had always been Pippa’s way of regaining control of her emotions, of finding grounding in a situation where she felt like there was none. Hecate had seen her do it countless times as children, during a particularly difficult exam, or on the rare occasion that one of the other girls said something nasty to her. But never, even in their most frustrated moments, had Hecate drawn that reaction from her. 

When Pippa looked back, at last meeting Hecate’s eyes, she allowed herself one final, deep breath that ended in a long, heavy sigh, eyes weary and tired. “Your ‘personal affairs,’ Hecate? Really? Is that all this is to you? Something of so little importance that you don’t even feel the need to tell the people closest to you?”

Hecate blanched, the words cutting into her heart, sharp as knives. “I never said that.” Then, realizing precisely how useless, how defensive that was, she added, “And I know what you’re thinking right now.” Her words were slow, measured, and she saw Pippa open her mouth to protest. “But I need you to believe me -  _ please _ \- when I tell you that, at no point was my intention ever to keep anything a secret.” She paused, then amended, “Except, perhaps, in the beginning, when Miss Drill would have been  _ dreadfully  _ smug about it.”

Pippa cracked the barest of smiles, which she quickly forced down in preparation of what might be to come. “Okay, Hecate,” she sighed, “I believe you. I want to believe you, in any event, and I’ve never known you to lie to me--”

“I never have.”

“I know,” Pippa said, with a look that told Hecate that her interruption had not been at all appreciated. “So please, tell me, what exactly it is that you are doing at this point, if  _ not  _ keeping it a secret?”

Hecate took a deep, shuddering breath, running a hand through her hair in frustration. She flinched when she hit a snag -- one of the many reasons she had, in her older years, taken to wearing her hair up. “I am… a very private person, Pippa. You know this about me. I’ve always been.” Pippa nodded slowly, grudgingly, and even to her own ears, Hecate sounded entirely too weary. “I wished to make sure… that is, I wasn’t… I needed to be certain that whatever  _ this  _ was, that it was going to last -- that it was something  _ you  _ would want to last -- before I said anything. I needed to be sure that this was real, before I let it become anyone else’s business.”

Pippa remained silent, her expression thoughtful, confused, and still a bit hurt. At last, she gave Hecate a curious look and said, in the same carefully measured tone, “Have I done something to give you the impression that this was anything other than real, and serious, and  _ incredibly important  _ to me?” Pippa’s expression was so earnest, so concerned and confused and pained at the thought that somehow she might have been a contributing factor in the mess Hecate had made.

Hecate shook her head. “No.”

“Then why?”

Dozens of possible answers flooded Hecate’s brain, one after the other.  _ Because why  _ would  _ you? Because we hated each other for longer than we didn’t. Because I’m me, and you’re you, and-- _

_ Because I’m afraid. _

She settled on, “Because I don’t understand. And neither does anyone else, and they never have.” Hecate hated the feeling those words brought. The inevitability of them, the way they carried every one of her worst fears about Pippa, about their relationship, about what it might be, or not be. She saw Pippa’s mouth open to argue before, she was certain, Pippa even realized it had happened. She cut her off, one hand raised to silence Pippa, to let her know that she wasn’t quite finished. “It’s true, and you know it is. I know it wasn’t just me who noticed the way people used to look at us, like they couldn’t quite fathom what… what someone like you would ever want with someone like me. I know it wasn’t only me who heard them talking about how…” she paused, the words catching on her throat. “how you shouldn’t pity me so. How it would never do you any good. How  _ I _ would never do you any good.”

Pippa was staring at her now, eyes narrowed in concern, in frustration that Hecate could see bubbling just below the surface, in hurt and confusion and far too many emotions to put a name to. And for a moment, Hecate thought she was preparing to launch a counterargument, an elaborate rebuttal the likes of which Hecate remembered well from their school years. But instead, all she said, in a voice so soft Hecate scarcely heard it, was, “And yet, I’m not the one who left.”

Somehow, Pippa, always so gifted with words, with reading people -- with reading Hecate -- had found the one thing that hurt quite unlike anything else. Any possible response Hecate might have had died on her tongue, words hard and painful like rocks in her throat. She knew, of course, that the thirty-year rift between them would always be a tender spot for Pippa. That the hurt she had caused, and the trust she had betrayed, would never be so easily remedied. But it was an entirely different experience, having it used as an argument against her. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, willed back the tears of frustration that she could feel welling up. Wished she were the sort of person who would have something,  _ anything,  _ productive to say. But no words, no defense or justification, came.

It was, at long last, Pippa who broke the silence, her voice stronger now, firmer, more confident. But still pleading. Hecate wondered how long Pippa had been pleading with her to be heard. To be listened to. “Hecate, I have always been serious about you. I was serious about you when we were eleven and Daphne Darkwood tripped you in the hallway. I was serious about you when we were fifteen, and both entirely too frightened to say anything about how we felt for one another. I was serious about you when I told you that I had never stopped loving you. And I am serious about you now. And no, I expect that a good number of people did  _ not  _ understand, and still wouldn’t. But honestly, what do any of those people  _ mean _ ? I don’t understand,” she finished, “how you can think I am anything  _ but  _ serious, when that’s all I have ever been. I don’t understand why it’s so hard for you to just believe me.”

“It was never about whether or not I believe you,” Hecate said, her voice raw and ragged and worn down. “I never thought-- it isn’t that I thought you were lying. I just… couldn’t imagine why it would be true. And I thought that eventually, you would come to your senses. And yes,” she added, seeing Pippa’s brow crease, “your feelings on that matter have been duly noted. But again, I am a very private person. And… I couldn’t have beared it, should I have had to share that heartbreak with the entire staff at Cackle’s.”

Pippa was staring at her, something indecipherable in her eyes, and Hecate was quite unsure what to make of it. At last, and entirely unexpectedly, she lunged at Hecate, wrapping her arms fiercely around her middle. Hecate stiffened at the unexpected contact, at the sudden shift in Pippa’s demeanor. “Pippa--” she started, but Pippa shook her head, interrupting her.

“Hecate, I swear, for the most brilliant witch I have ever met, you can be so  _ stupid _ ,” she mumbled, her face pressed into Hecate’s shoulder, muffling her voice.

“Would you believe,” Hecate asked wryly, “that you are not the first person to tell me that?” It was, perhaps, not quite the right time for levity. But Hecate had never had Pippa’s knack for words and emotions, and it was the only thing that she could think of to say in the moment.

Pippa pulled back and wiped furiously at her eyes, which, Hecate realized for the first time, had the remnants of unshed tears in them. “I absolutely would,” she said, with a watery laugh. Then she added, more seriously, “I meant it, though. You have always been far more important to me than petty witches who think they know you, or me, or us. You’re my best friend, and the only person I have ever wanted to be with. And if I had known-- if I had known that I might have been able to spare us both so much heartbreak by saying so--”

“Then you would have been a great deal braver than I was,” Hecate finished for her. “A great deal braver, I believe, than either of us was ready to be.”

Pippa gave a rueful smile. “I suppose that’s true. Pity, though. Thirty years was much too long to do without you.”

Hecate shifted slightly, the lull in their conversation feeling heavier, more uncomfortable than it ever had before. “Does it really bother you so much that I haven’t told anyone?” she asked quietly, not entirely certain what answer she was hoping for.

Pippa thought for a moment, weighing her thoughts and feelings and opinions in her head, then shook her head. She reached a hand out to grasp one of Hecate’s and held it, suspended in the air, squeezing it tightly. “No,” she said finally. “You are, as you pointed out, a very private person. And you are entitled to tell or not tell whomever you choose. I was just afraid, as, it seems, were you, that your decision to not tell anyone was rooted in…” she paused, swallowed, as though the words were painful to get out. “In you not being as serious about this -- about us -- as I am.”

“Nevertheless…” 

“Nevertheless nothing, Hiccup,” Pippa said, warmth making its way back into the edges of her voice, eyes the soft, gentle brown that Hecate had grown so accustomed to, perhaps too accustomed to. “I never want you to feel like I’m pushing you into something you don’t want, or aren’t ready for. If you need this to be between us for a bit longer, I can manage with that.  _ You  _ need to feel comfortable in this relationship, too.”

Hecate pursed her lips. “Nothing about this makes me comfortable,” she admitted. “This is… completely new to me, but also so familiar that sometimes, I have to remind myself that time has, indeed, passed. That you are different, as am I, and we have led whole lives independent of one another up to this point. That there are thirty years worth of history for us to learn about each other. And despite all of that, when we are together, none of that feels real to me. It feels like no time has passed, and nothing has changed, and it is… profoundly unsettling to me.” Pippa nodded, but said nothing, letting Hecate continue to get her thoughts out in whatever kind of order she could manage. “And I suppose the root of the matter is, all of that is wrapped up in some of my most private… my most treasured memories. Ones that I have never shared, with anyone. Except you. But as closely tied together as they may be to me, this is not that. These memories are not those ones. And there is… no point in keeping them so closely guarded. Not if it is going to smother our chances at growing together.”

Pippa kept her silence, her expression still warm, but unchanging. Hecate felt a creeping dread spread across her chest, certain she had said the wrong thing once again, had somehow made everything worse just as it was getting better. Had once again done the exact  _ wrong _ thing, in some catastrophic way.

But when Pippa moved to speak at last, she was smiling. “That was quite uncharacteristically romantic of you, Hiccup,” she said, with a teasing lilt in her voice. Hecate recognized the opportunity she was being given, to end the conversation without awkwardness or loose ends. To back off from an emotionally charged topic about which they had both said their peace. 

She didn’t take it

“To be clear,” Hecate said, one eyebrow raised, “I have no intention of waltzing into Ada’s office upon my return and announcing to her, with no preamble whatsoever, that we have been in a relationship for the past six months and I simply neglected to tell her.”

Pippa’s smile turned into a laugh, which turned into peals of laughter, which quickly turned into wheezing, and she gasped, clutching Hecate’s arm.

“Unless my sense of humor is even worse than people say, I am quite certain that was not nearly amusing enough to justify your reaction,” Hecate said mildly, reaching out to pat Pippa gently on the back.

Pippa straightened, shaking her head. “It was actually the thought of Ada Cackle’s face in that situation that did me in.”

Hecate had to admit that it was a rather entertaining thought.

“Really, though, Hecate,” Pippa said, more seriously now. “I don’t expect you to shout it from the rooftops.” Hecate’s face must have looked at horrified as she felt at the prospect, because Pippa gave her a wry grin. “In fact, please don’t do that. That would be profoundly uncomfortable for us both.”

“You have nothing to worry about in that regard,” Hecate assured her. “I had no intention whatsoever of doing any such thing.”

“I had no doubt,” Pippa said fondly. “But in all seriousness, I don’t want this to be a big to-do any more than you do. I’ve just had more than enough of keeping how I feel about you a secret for one lifetime, I suppose.”

“As have I,” Hecate agreed, realizing for the first time how true the words were. How long she had loved Pippa in silence, from great distances as well as when Pippa was by her side, and how much pain and heartbreak that had caused them both. “You have my word, that when an appropriate situation presents itself, I will take the first opportunity to…” Hecate paused, unsure of exactly the words she wanted to use, of what would sound the least trite, the least forced and contrived.

But Pippa understood, as Pippa had always understood her, and it was with a knowing smile that she leaned in and kissed her, soft and gentle and warm, always warm. “I know you will, Hiccup. You’ve always been good for your word,” she murmured into Hecate’s lips, between kisses.

Hecate said nothing in response, just kissed her back, and allowed the world to fall into place around them.

**Author's Note:**

> Join me on Tumblr @ thebestdressedrebelinhistory


End file.
